London's Roman Amphitheatre, Guildhall London's Roman Amphitheatre Rent a Castle Whether it's a folly for 2 or a fort for 20, try our castles for rent page. By Ben Johnson | Comments After more than a hundred years of searching by archaeologists, London’s Roman Amphitheatre was finally rediscovered in 1988 hidden beneath Guildhall Yard. It was a quite surprising discovery as the amphitheatre was found within the old Roman city walls , whereas the majority of ancient amphitheatres were located on the outside. The history of the amphitheatre is a rather tumultuous one. Built in AD70 as a simple wooden structure, the amphitheatre had a more substantial makeover in the early 2nd century taking its capacity up to 6,000 people. During this time the arena was used for public events, animal fighting, public executions and, of course, gladiatorial combat. After the Romans abandoned Britain in the 4th century, the amphitheatre was dismantled and much of it used for building materials.

It lay derelict and in ruins for hundreds of years, however by the 11th century overcrowding in London forced the reoccupation of the area. At first the buildings that steadily encroached onto the old amphitheatre were simple ones; mostly timber houses of a Viking trade settlement. Over time these buildings gave way to an institution that Londoners are now most familiar with; the first ever Guildhall. The site had once again become the centre of London. Today, the first hint that you’re on the right route requires a quick glance down to the floor of the Guildhall Yard. Here you’ll notice an 80m-wide curved line of dark stone that follows the edge of the amphitheatre itself. The actual remains of the amphitheatre are located around eight metres below the ground, buried beneath layers of ancient rubbish and rubble. To reach the remains you will have to buy a ticket to the Guildhall Art Gallery, where entrance to the amphitheatre’s remains is included in the price. Once inside you’ll see the remains of the original walls, the drainage system, and even the sand which was once used to soak up the blood from wounded Gladiators.

Oh, and just in case your imagination isn’t up to snuff, there is a rather impressive digital projection that fills in the gaps of the ruins! If you enjoyed this article, you might also like... The Great Fire of London - The Great Fire of London started in Pudding Lane in September 1666..... Secret London - Discover the hidden and secret sites of historic London, including the few buildings that survived the Great Fire, Britain's smallest police station, the sites of the forgotten plague pits, discover the Roman city walls, etc... The Execution Sites of London - London has witnessed some of the most famous executions in history, and although the death penalty in England was abolished in 1965, we've managed to track down some of London's most historic execution sites which we've marked on this interactive map. Historic Accommodation in London - Our selection of historic accommodation in London and the Home Counties, including accommodation in historic hotels, cosy inns, as well as bed and breakfasts - even boats on the River Thames! London Theatre Breaks - From Les Miserables to Shrek The Musical, whatever your theatrical tastes we have something to suit!

See some of the West End’s biggest shows with our theatre break packages – complete with tickets and a hotel stay. You can even add rail travel! Guide to London Transport and Tubes - Our transport guide to help you to get around this fair city. Whether you intend to travel by train, bus and / or boat, our guide is full of useful information and links. Advertising Roman amphitheatre, Guildhall Yard - 1013411| Historic England Roman amphitheatre, Guildhall Yard List Entry Summary This monument is scheduled under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas Act 1979 as amended as it appears to the Secretary of State to be of national importance. This entry is a copy, the original is held by the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. Name: Roman amphitheatre, Guildhall Yard List entry Number: 1013411 The monument may lie within the boundary of more than one authority. County: Greater London Authority District: City and County of the City of London District Type: London Borough National Park: Not applicable to this List entry. Grade: Not applicable to this List entry.

Date first scheduled: 23-Jul-1990 Date of most recent amendment: Not applicable to this List entry. Legacy System Information The contents of this record have been generated from a legacy data system. Legacy System: RSM UID: 13201 Asset Groupings This list entry does not comprise part of an Asset Grouping. Asset Groupings are not part of the official record but are added later for information. List entry Description Legacy Record - This information may be included in the List Entry Details. Reasons for Designation Roman amphitheatres are rare monuments in Britain, there being only twelve known examples. This example is of particular importance because of its association with the Roman provincial capital of Londinium, a factor reflected in its size. The site would have provided the main focus of entertainment within the capital, the provision of which was seen as one of the marks of Roman civilised life. Additionally, it is unusual in that it is located inside the later walled defences of Londinium and also close to the fort. It is one of only five of Britain's amphitheatres to show a military rather than civilian connection this way. The excavations on the site have demonstrated that archaeological remains survive well and extensively.

In particular, the waterlogged conditions have led to the excellent preservation of timber and other normally perishable remains. This has given an insight into structural details not normally preserved. History Legacy Record - This information may be included in the List Entry Details. Details The monument is an elliptical amphitheatre, c.105m long and 85m wide, externally sealed beneath Guildhall Yard and its surrounding buildings. Although located beneath these later buildings, its extent and general ground plan can be discerned from its effect on the topography of this area of the city, in particular whose streets established in the 10th and 11th centuries have obviously been routed to avoid it. Moreover, an area corresponding to the centre of the arena has been kept an open space since at least the 14th century. Partial excavations by the Museum of London in 1951, 1985 and 1987-8 have provided much detail on the structural form of the monument. Of particular note is the preservation of timber remains as this was a major material used in the original construction.

The degree of preservation is such that many fine details of construction, which would not normally survive on a 'dry' site have been investigated and recorded. Features revealed include an outer wall retaining the seating banks, the inner arena wall and the arena itself, an east entrance with two side-chambers likely to have been shrines or changing rooms, a porch, plank-lined drains and sumps, timber thresholds and a piled structure round the inside of the arena wall. This work has indicated that the site was in use between the early 2nd century and c.AD360. By the late 4th century, however, stone was being robbed from the site suggesting it had fallen out of use. After a period of neglect, building began on the site in the early Medieval period and has continued down to the present day. All buildings on the site are excluded from this scheduling although the ground beneath them is included. Additionally all roads within the proposed constraint area are excluded, but the remains beneath them are included. MAP EXTRACT The site of the monument is shown on the attached map extract. It includes a 5 metre boundary around the archaeological features, considered to be essential for the monument's support and preservation.

Selected Sources Barron, C, The Medieval Guildhall of London, (1974) Hobley, B, The Guildhall Roman Amphitheatre, (1988) 'Britannia' in Guildhall Yard (Roman Britain in 1987), , Vol. XIX, (1988) Bateman, N, 'London Archaeologist' in Guildhall Art Gallery, Guildhall Yard (excavation round-up 1987), , Vol. 5, (1988) Maloney, J, 'London Illustrated News' in Fun and Games in Roman London, (1988) Other BM Add MSS 5415, Leake, J, Surveigh of streets, lanes & churched within ruines of Cty Londn, (1666) National Grid Reference: TQ 32478 81357 Map © Crown Copyright and database right 2017. All rights reserved. Ordnance Survey Licence number 100024900. © British Crown and SeaZone Solutions Limited 2017. All rights reserved.

Licence number 102006.006. Use of this data is subject to Terms and Conditions . The above map is for quick reference purposes only and may not be to scale. For a copy of the full scale map, please see the attached PDF - 1013411 .pdf The PDF will be generated from our live systems and may take a few minutes to download depending on how busy our servers are. We apologise for this delay. This copy shows the entry on 19-Jan-2017 at 05:20:15. End of official listing A Tour of London’s Roman Amphitheatre – visitlondon.com blog Pin It Please note this blog is no longer active. This post was last updated 6 years, 10 months ago and may contain out of date prices, opening times, links and information. Go to for the lastest visitor information for London. Walking around the City of London , I’m normally too busy looking up at towering office blocks to think about what’s under my feet. But yesterday I took a tour of London’s subterranean Roman amphitheatre , and realised there’s a whole world buried beneath the city’s streets.

The monthly amphitheatre tour is led by Museum of London’s Roman Curator, Jenny Hall. Our small tour group met in the Museum of London foyer, then walked down the road to the Guildhall Art Gallery , which is built on top of the amphitheatre. Amazingly, the ruins of the amphitheatre were only discovered in 1988, when builders were digging foundations for the new art gallery. Archaeologists had long suspected that the Roman town of Londinium had an amphitheatre. But as Hall explains, “we’d been looking outside the city wall and this amphitheatre, unusually, is inside the city wall”. These days, the amphitheatre is six to eight metres below street level, buried under a layer of Roman rubble and rubbish. “They would knock their buildings down and also dump rubbish, so the ground level was gradually rising all the time,” says Hall. The amphitheatre was an important building in Roman times. In its heyday, it would’ve accommodated around 6,000 people, at a time when the population of Londinium was 20,000 to 30,000.

The ruins of the 80m-wide structure have been well-preserved, and you can still see the remains of the original walls, drainage system, and even the sand that filled the arena. Sand was perfect for soaking up blood from the gruesome gladiator games, wild animal fights and executions that took place here. In the drains, archaeologists found Roman objects including ladies’ hair pins, drinking vessels, writing tablets and lead cursings (which were used to curse people or send messages to the gods). Hall compared these objects to the litter left behind after a modern-day football match. The Museum of London tour really brought to life the gladiators, wild animals and baying crowds that inhabited the amphitheatre in Roman times. If you want to discover this fascinating underground gem, I’d recommend booking a place on the next tour. Museum of London tours of the Roman amphitheatre take place once a month and cost £5. Alternatively, entry to the amphitheatre is included in admission to the Guildhall Art Gallery. Where To See Roman London | Londonist Where To See Roman London By M@ M@ Where To See Roman London London was founded by the Romans, almost 2,000 years ago.

It lasted less than 15 years. Boudica burnt the city to the ground, an attack whose fire debris can still be seen in the archaeological record. A bigger and stronger city rose in its place. That Londinium has also long since crumbled. But, here and there, chunky fragments of our Roman heritage remain. Below we present a guide to exploring this legacy. Within the Square Mile The original city was largely contained within a set of defensive walls, roughly contiguous with the modern day Square Mile, although not extending quite so far west. The walls were enlarged in medieval times, and significant sections can still be seen. Meanwhile, a host of other Roman treasures can be spied in the basements of the City. Follow the Wall The old Roman wall can still be glimpsed at a handful of sites around the City. Only one section still follows the modern boundary of the Square Mile. This can be found on Tower Hill, and is guarded by a 20th century statue said to be the Emperor Trajan (see image at top) — although the Museum of London tells us the figure was recovered from a reclamation yard in Southampton in the 1920s with a head that does not match the body!

The wall's continuation to the north can be accessed via the courtyard of the Grange City Hotel on Cooper's Row. If you only seek out one piece of wall, head here. Excellent signage provides a history of the wall, and you can even walk through the structure via an arch to the left (although this and other upper sections are medieval). The next visible stretches can be found along the aptly named thoroughfare of London Wall, towards the Museum of London. The wall fragments here were also part of a large Roman fort, which nestled in the north-west quarter of Londinium. There's plenty to see, including towering remains in the gardens of the Barbican and further, well-labelled structures along Noble Street. An excellent view can be gained from the Museum of London's Roman gallery. Needless to say, this also contains plenty of artefacts from Roman London, and is an essential stop for anyone wanting to learn more about our city's origins. These are the only sections of wall on outdoor display. Other fragments remain in various basements around town, and require special access. One of the best, the old fort gate, is locked up in the car park near the Museum of London.

The remains can be visited on regular tours, and Open House weekend, but a less substantial section can be seen in the car park at any time. Another impressive fragment lurks in the basement of the Old Bailey, and several office blocks along the old perimeter, but you need special permission to visit. More accessible (but trapped behind an entry charge) is the section of river wall inside the Tower of London. Other remains The most spectacular Roman remains of all can be found in the basement of Guildhall Art Gallery. Historians had long conjectured that Londinium must have had some kind of sporting arena. It was only discovered in the 1980s, during the building of the gallery. The amphitheatre's remains are now on permanent exhibition, and are free to visit during gallery opening hours. You can see the footprint of the old amphitheatre while standing above in Guildhall Yard. Its perimeter is marked out in grey paving. Three City churches also boast significant Roman remains. St Bride's off Fleet Street shows off a Roman pavement in its crypt. All Hallows by the Tower's crypt museum houses the tessellated floor of a domestic house from the period, as well as a wonderful model of Londinium from the 1920s.

St Magnus the Martyr, meanwhile, displays a probable timber from the Roman version of London Bridge (below), which crossed the Thames from this site. The Temple of Mithras , rediscovered in the aftermath of the second world war, was later shifted to Cannon Street and displayed as one of London's most visible Roman remains. It was boxed up and put in storage to allow development of a huge new headquarters for Bloomberg. That dig uncovered many more Roman artefacts, along the course of the buried River Walbrook. The temple will be reinstated on its original site, and on public display again in a couple of year's time. Lower Thames Street is not one of the most exciting thoroughfares in the capital. It hides an ancient secret, however. Beneath an anonymous office block lie the remains of an extensive Roman bath house and villa . The site is usually closed to the public, but is occasionally accessible at times such as Open House weekend. Many other fragments of the Roman city exist in private basements throughout the Square Mile. Most are rarely accessible, though there are exceptions. A basement hairdressers on the western edge of Leadenhall Market includes a short section of the old Forum.

You can view it for the price of a haircut, or (sometimes) visit on Open House weekend. British Museum As well as the Museum of London's extensive Roman collection, many artefacts are housed in the British Museum. Room 49, Romans in Britain, displays hundreds of objects from the era, including many from Londinium. Look out for mosaics from Leadenhall (below) and the Bank of England , plus a wooden windlass mechanism and various swords . Further Out Although Roman activity was focused on the area now known as the City of London, the invaders left their mark on many locations in Greater London. Not far from the centre, for example, Greenwich Park contains the remnants of a supposed Romano-Celtic temple . Further out, Orpington boasts the only remaining Roman villa in the capital. Crofton Roman Villa was once the centre of a farm estate, and you can still see the outlines of ten rooms and the underfloor heating. It is open between April and October and is well geared-up for family activities. Many Roman structures were lost to history when their building materials were re-used for later construction. An impressive example can be seen by taking a 30 minute train ride to St Albans.

The city's cathedral is partly built from Roman bricks, and many other remains lie nearby. Within the bounds of London, Old St Andrew's Church in Kingsbury also includes many Roman bricks in its 12th/13th century structure, suggesting a former Roman settlement in the area. Article and photos by Matt Brown. Last Updated 18 October 2016 The other London underground | Stuff.co.nz The other London underground Last updated 05:00, June 16 2016 CHRIS RATCLIFFE The journey through London's ancient history begins at the Royal Courts of Justice. A dragon rears up bang in the middle of the road, wings outstretched, marking an invisible boundary. She (or he - with a dragon, how can you tell?) clutches a shield with scaly claws and snarls silently westward. The dragon is only a statue, perched on a fancy marble base with a relief of Queen Victoria holding a threatening gold sceptre, but stands at the edge of the City of London, the original Londinium, the capital founded nearly two millennia ago by the Romans.

West of the dragon lies the London everybody knows: Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, Harrods, the Houses of Parliament. To the east, it's a world financial centre, with glittering skyscrapers proclaiming the names of banks, brokerages and law firms. But behind the shiny glass, concrete and steel, the London of 800 years ago, even 1,800 years ago, is still there, hiding in plain sight: a London of quasi-secret gardens, ancient stone fortifications cheek-by-jowl with digital start-ups, Roman ruins lurking in parking garages and forgotten churches where lie the bones of 14th-century queens. READ MORE: * Five top day trips from London Officially known as the Temple Bar monument, the dragon is my signal to get off the bus. From the early Middle Ages until 1878, there was a physical gate here, a bar, controlling who went in and out of the City, the square mile of Ur-metropolis that maintains its own mayor and its own system of governance. The "Temple" part of the name comes from the Knights Templar, who acquired property here in the 1160s.

The No 23 chugs away, leaving me on Fleet Street in front of the Victorian crazy castle that houses the Royal Courts of Justice - this whole area is a hotbed of lawyers. I cross the road and slip down a narrow passage, just wide enough for two (skinny) people, and emerge in a courtyard bright with sunny daffodils just beginning to open. All of a sudden, there's an almost unnatural silence, as if a soundproof curtain has fallen, shutting off the grinding, shouting and striving of the 21st century. The Inner Temple gardens. Photo: RachelH/Flikr Ad Feedback The Middle Temple and the Inner Temple, the name given to the collection of libraries, lawns, dining halls, quadrangles and chambers (law offices), some dating from the time of Elizabeth I, are two of the four Inns of Court, the British equivalent of the bar. But before the attorneys took over, the Templars, officially "the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon," ruled this part of the City.

Despite the swivel-eyed conspiracy theories of The Da Vinci Code, the Templars weren't a sinister bunch of church enforcers hiding the marriage of Jesus and Mary of Magdala; they were an elite transnational fighting force of Crusaders with one eye on conquering the Middle East in the name of Jesus and the other on amassing money and power. In 1307, having failed to retake the Holy Land but having succeeded too well at getting rich, the Templars were accused by the King of France of paganism, homosexuality and spitting on the cross. The real story was that the king owed them a lot of money. The order was disbanded, and many of the knights were burned at the stake. Happily, not all traces of the Templars are gone: Their headquarters, round as a crown and consecrated in 1185, still stands here amid the stone walks and green grass. The church was supposedly modelled on the Holy Sepulchre, which features the tomb of Jesus, in Jerusalem. Henry III added a rectangular chancel in 1240. It's one of the calmest, least-touristed places in all of London.

Yet as I stand in the circular nave, surrounded by a ring of dark Purbeck marble columns, I feel as though I'm being watched. And I am - sort of - by all these carved stone faces, each with what you might call an irreverent, maybe downright rude, expression, sticking out their tongues, crossing their eyes, glaring, sneering, looking like a panel of political pundits on TV. In contrast, the nine effigies of 12th-century knights on the floor are dignified and serious, though they do look a bit like a medieval slumber party. I emerge into rare spring sunshine and stroll around the garden, three acres of plane trees and flower beds. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night was first performed in Middle Temple Hall in 1602; he also set a pivotal scene of Henry VI, Part I here in the Temple garden, where the great lords of England declare allegiance to rival royal heirs by dramatically picking a white rose for York or a red one for Lancaster, kicking off the Wars of the Roses. It's complete fiction, sadly; nevertheless, in a few weeks, there will be red and white roses blooming here.

At the moment, the garden is full of gem-colored tulips, sharp-scented narcissus and barristers in sharp suits going to and from court, pulling small, wheeled carry-on bags that hold their briefs, gowns and horsehair wigs. I walk down Fleet Street, which takes its name from the River Fleet, one of London's now-underground streams, up Ludgate Hill, supposedly named for Lud, a mythic king of the Britons (but really from an Anglo-Saxon word for "swing gate"), past the pigeon-gray dome of St. Paul's and the penitentiary architecture of the London Stock Exchange, arriving even further back in the past than the Temple. To see what's left of Londinium, the greatest city of Roman Britannia, you must go underground. Literally. Beneath a 1960s office block on Lower Thames Street, there's a Roman bathhouse complete with central heating, part of a 2nd-century riverside villa.

"Bread and circuses," the poet Juvenal's depiction of Roman hunger for vicious entertainment, haunt the basement of the Guildhall Art Gallery, where, in 1988, builders discovered the remains of an amphitheatre dating from AD70. An eerie digital display reminds you that the arena held 6,000 spectators and that countless gladiators (and animals) fought and died here for the entertainment of the masses. Most of the structure is gone, but one of the drains remains, as does the stone foundation and the sand on the ground used to soak up the blood. The Roman amphitheatre below the Guildhall Art Gallery. Photo: Philafrenzy/Wikicommons The Romans were into amphitheatres, but they liked walls even better: Emperor Hadrian had one built across the top of England in 122; in 142, they built the Antonine Wall in Scotland, both to ward off "barbarians." After Queen Boudicca and her Iceni tribesmen burned Londinium to the ground in about AD61, the Roman governor figured his city needed a wall, too, though it took more than 100 years to finish.

As the centuries passed, some of the wall fell, some were cannibalised for stone, and much was covered up as the ground level rose. War and archaeology eventually revealed the Romans' impressive handiwork. In 1940, German bombs devastated much of the City, but in the rubble they found long stretches of Roman wall as well as a Roman fort built circa AD200. Below the road, called London Wall, I walk across the bridge over a little lake to the lovely, 700-year-old St Giles' Cripplegate, one of the few City churches to survive the Great Fire of 1666. The name comes from "cruplegate," the Anglo-Saxon term for tunnel. The church - burial place of the poet John Milton, who declared London "a city of refuge, the mansion house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection" - was damaged by the same bomb that uncovered the Roman remains but has been restored to sit somewhat incongruously in the midst of modern concrete on three sides and a tiny garden on the fourth.

Actually, the garden, full of flowering trees and next to the splendidly eclectic Museum of London, is one of the best places to see the Roman wall. The lower sections are original; the higher elevations medieval. The Saxons rebuilt much of the wall beginning in the late 9th century as a defense against the Vikings, then Plantagenet princes added towers and fancier ramparts as a defense against other Plantagenet princes. You can also see the remains of a Roman fort - a gate, a guardhouse and part of a tower - but only on a Museum of London guided tour (check the "Events" link on its website). The place where centurions paraded their cohorts and soldiers kept a lookout watching for rebellion-minded Celts and other threats is now in a locked area of an underground parking garage.

The Museum of London is a curiously underappreciated City jewel, rarely stuffed to the gills with schoolchildren and tourists, not as overwhelmingly vast as the British Museum, yet a treasure house of the ancient and the extraordinary, such as the 300,000-year-old skull of an auroch and the tooth of a woolly rhinoceros found less than a half-mile away, as well as Viking war axes and Lord Nelson's jewelled sword. The Roman collection has more than 47,000 objects (including some leather "bikinis"), but the most impressive are the mosaic floors uncovered in the East End and the 4th-century lady found in nearby Spitalfields. The noblewoman was buried in a decorated lead coffin with a scallop-shell pattern. Arabian embalming oils used on her demonstrate that Londinium was no hick town on the edge of the Empire but rather a cosmopolitan marketplace. The isotopes in her tooth enamel reveal that she was actually born in Rome, and the jet beads, rich damask and gold thread of her shroud suggest she was an aristocrat.

Roman mourners recreated in Spitalfield, a scene from the Museum of London's Streetmuseum Londinium. Photo: REUTERS A full flask of wine in her sarcophagus could indicate that she worshipped Bacchus, too. The wine god's local cult had installed itself in the 2nd-century Temple of Mithras, less than a mile away, when the soldiers' god fell out of fashion. The Mithraeum was discovered at Walbrook (yet another hidden London stream that used to run under the Roman wall) in 1954 when an insurance company started digging the foundations for its new offices. The temple was moved and placed in storage; few people have had a chance to see it. But there's hope that will change next year, when the temple is reinstalled on the lower level of Bloomberg's new London headquarters, pretty much in the exact same place it was found. The museum has a wonderful sculpture dug up from the Mithraeum - a post-party Bacchus and Pan, drunk off their immortal butts, propped up between a satyr and a maenad.

After a cappuccino in the museum cafe, watching the encyclopedic 24-hour clock proclaiming random, yet compelling, London factoids (the first London coffeehouse opened in 1652; the value of the Crown Estates in London is £6 trillion; London has 460,000 trees), I head out into a spritzy spring rain to visit some queens and homicidal women. Christ Church Greyfriars was part of a Franciscan monastery, bankrolled in 1306 by Margaret, a wife of Edward I and built at Newgate, along the Roman wall. It was the second-largest church in medieval London, after St. Paul's Cathedral, and the burial place of Queen Margaret, her daughter Queen Joan of Scotland and Queen Isabella, the beautiful and ruthless wife of Edward II. Along with her lover Roger Mortimer, Isabella, the "She-Wolf of France," deposed her husband in 1326 and may have conspired in his death.

Le Morte d'Arthur author Sir Thomas Malory was buried here, too, as well as Elizabeth Barton, a nun later known as the "Mad Maid of Kent," who went around prophesying that Henry VIII would burn in hell if he married Anne Boleyn. The monuments that marked where these notables lay are gone now, damaged first during Henry VIII's seizure of church lands in 1538, then burned in the 1666 Great Fire. The church was rebuilt in 1704 by Sir Christopher Wren - who also designed the "new" St Paul's - only to be burned again on the night of December 29, 1940, when the Luftwaffe devastated the City in the "Second Great Fire of London." St Paul's was saved; a score of beautiful old churches were not. Yet Christ Church Greyfriars's outer walls, with Wren's elegant arched windows, remain, as does the church tower, now a private residence (if you're looking for a London pied-a-terre, it was recently on the market for US$5.7 million (NZ$8.14m).

The nave has been turned into an elegant, slightly melancholy garden laid out on Wren's floor plan with bay trees, pink roses and blue irises. Christ Church Greyfriars. Photo: Iridescent/Wikicommons I stand there sheltering under my cheap umbrella, deleting the ugly commercial edifices of Merrill Lynch, British Telecom and Goldman Sachs in my head, wondering whether the ghosts will come out with the twilight. Queen Isabella is said to walk here in silks and furs, holding the still-beating heart of the murdered king. She has some competition: Lady Hungerford, executed for her first husband's 1518 murder, makes the occasional appearance as well, sometimes to argue with the queen over which one is better looking. Agnes Hungerford was hanged in 1523 on the banks of the Tyburn, that now-disappeared river, along with other criminals who weren't fancy enough to merit Tower Hill.

The soft drizzle and the dying light helps roll away the 21st century, back 700 years ago when Christ Church looked over at the huge medieval spire of St Paul's piercing the heavens at the top of a nearby hill, then nearly two millennia ago when the Romans were making their great city on the banks of the Thames. London is itself like a cathedral built on a Roman temple that was built on a neolithic henge, layer upon layer of history, each generation making its mark on top of the other. There's always something else to dig up. Yet London, always generous, reveals its secrets to those who bother to look a little. Where to stay Z Hotel, 136-144 City Rd, London EC1V 2RL. +0044-20-3551-3702 thezhotels.com Ultramodern and fairly economical: You can crash in a double bed without a window from $170. Where to eat Cafe Below, St Mary-le-Bow Church, Cheapside, London EC2V 6AU.

+0044-20-7329-0789 cafebelow.co.uk Restaurant in the 11th-century crypt of this famous Wren church serving international riffs on British seafood, lamb and beef. Also offers breakfast and lunch. Entrees average about $20. What to do Temple Church, Temple, London EC4Y 7BB. +0011-44-20-7353-8559 templechurch.com Elegant, spare 12th century church built as the headquarters for the Knights Templar, it's full of dignified medieval effigies and grotesque stone heads sticking their tongues out at you. Open 10-4, usually (check the website). Admission $10, but free on Wednesdays for Choral Evensong. Museum of London, 150 London Wall, London EC2Y 5HN. museumoflondon.org.uk The museum tells the story of London through its people, places and critters. Permanent galleries include "London Before London," with bones of prehistoric animals and "Roman London," a cornucopia of treasures from old Londinium. Open 10-6.

Free admission. Roman amphitheatre, Guildhall Art Gallery, Guildhall Yard, London EC2V 5AE. Spooky evocation and excavation of the arena where gladiators fought underneath a very fine gallery with exhibitions of London artists. Admission charged for exhibitions; admission to the amphitheatre is free. - The Washington Post The other London underground: Roman ruins lurk in parking garages and forgotten churches | National Post The other London underground: Roman ruins lurk in parking garages and forgotten churches StumbleUpon LONDON — A dragon rears up bang in the middle of the road, wings outstretched, marking an invisible boundary. She (or he — with a dragon, how can you tell?) clutches a shield with scaly claws and snarls silently westward. The dragon is only a statue, perched on a fancy marble base with a relief of Queen Victoria holding a threatening gold scepter, but stands at the edge of the City of London , the original Londinium, the capital founded nearly two millennia ago by the Romans. West of the dragon lies the London everybody knows: Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, Harrods, the Houses of Parliament.

To the east, it’s a world financial centre, with glittering skyscrapers proclaiming the names of banks, brokerages and law firms. But behind the shiny glass, concrete and steel, the London of 800 years ago, even 1,800 years ago, is still there, hiding in plain sight: a London of quasi-secret gardens, ancient stone fortifications cheek-by-jowl with digital start-ups, Roman ruins lurking in parking garages and forgotten churches where lie the bones of 14th-century queens. Officially known as the Temple Bar monument, the dragon is my signal to get off the bus. From the early Middle Ages until 1878, there was a physical gate here, a bar, controlling who went in and out of the City, the square mile of Ur-metropolis that maintains its own mayor and its own system of governance. The “Temple” part of the name comes from the Knights Templar, who acquired property here in the 1160s. The No. 23 chugs away, leaving me on Fleet Street in front of the Victorian crazy castle that houses the Royal Courts of Justice — this whole area is a hotbed of lawyers.

I cross the road and slip down a narrow passage, just wide enough for two (skinny) people, and emerge in a courtyard bright with sunny daffodils just beginning to open. All of a sudden, there’s an almost unnatural silence, as if a soundproof curtain has fallen, shutting off the grinding, shouting and striving of the 21st century. The Middle Temple and the Inner Temple, the name given to the collection of libraries, lawns, dining halls, quadrangles and chambers (law offices), some dating from the time of Elizabeth I, are two of the four Inns of Court, the British equivalent of the bar. But before the attorneys took over, the Templars, officially “the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon,” ruled this part of the City. Despite the swivel-eyed conspiracy theories of “The Da Vinci Code,” the Templars weren’t a sinister bunch of church enforcers hiding the marriage of Jesus and Mary of Magdala; they were an elite transnational fighting force of Crusaders with one eye on conquering the Middle East in the name of Jesus and the other on amassing money and power.

In 1307, having failed to retake the Holy Land but having succeeded too well at getting rich, the Templars were accused by the King of France of paganism, homosexuality and spitting on the cross. The real story was that the king owed them a lot of money. The order was disbanded, and many of the knights were burned at the stake. Happily, not all traces of the Templars are gone: Their headquarters, round as a crown and consecrated in 1185, still stands here amid the stone walks and green grass. The church was supposedly modelled on the Holy Sepulchre, which features the tomb of Jesus, in Jerusalem. Henry III added a rectangular chancel in 1240. It’s one of the calmest, least-touristed places in all of London. Yet as I stand in the circular nave, surrounded by a ring of dark Purbeck marble columns, I feel as though I’m being watched.

And I am — sort of — by all these carved stone faces, each with what you might call an irreverent, maybe downright rude, expression, sticking out their tongues, crossing their eyes, glaring, sneering, looking like a panel of political pundits on TV. In contrast, the nine effigies of 12th-century knights on the floor are dignified and serious, though they do look a bit like a medieval slumber party. I emerge into rare spring sunshine and stroll around the garden, three acres of plane trees and flower beds. Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” was first performed in Middle Temple Hall in 1602; he also set a pivotal scene of “Henry VI, Part I” here in the Temple garden, where the great lords of England declare allegiance to rival royal heirs by dramatically picking a white rose for York or a red one for Lancaster, kicking off the Wars of the Roses. It’s complete fiction, sadly; nevertheless, in a few weeks, there will be red and white roses blooming here.

At the moment, the garden is full of gem-coloured tulips, sharp-scented narcissus and barristers in sharp suits going to and from court, pulling small, wheeled carry-on bags that hold their briefs, gowns and horsehair wigs. I walk down Fleet Street, which takes its name from the River Fleet, one of London’s now-underground streams, up Ludgate Hill, supposedly named for Lud, a mythic king of the Britons (but really from an Anglo-Saxon word for “swing gate”), past the pigeon-grey dome of St. Paul’s and the penitentiary architecture of the London Stock Exchange, arriving even further back in the past than the Temple. To see what’s left of Londinium, the greatest city of Roman Britannia, you must go underground. Literally. Beneath a 1960s office block on Lower Thames Street, there’s a Roman bathhouse complete with central heating, part of a 2nd-century riverside villa.

“Bread and circuses,” the poet Juvenal’s depiction of Roman hunger for vicious entertainment, haunt the basement of the Guildhall Art Gallery , where, in 1988, builders discovered the remains of an amphitheatre dating from A.D. 70 . An eerie digital display reminds you that the arena held 6,000 spectators and that countless gladiators (and animals) fought and died here for the entertainment of the masses. Most of the structure is gone, but one of the drains remains, as does the stone foundation and the sand on the ground used to soak up the blood. The Romans were into amphitheatres, but they liked walls even better: Emperor Hadrian had one built across the top of England in 122; in 142, they built the Antonine Wall in Scotland, both to ward off “barbarians.” After Queen Boudicca and her Iceni tribesmen burned Londinium to the ground in about A.D. 61, the Roman governor figured his city needed a wall, too, though it took more than 100 years to finish.

As the centuries passed, some of the wall fell, some were cannibalized for stone, and much was covered up as the ground level rose. War and archaeology eventually revealed the Romans’ impressive handiwork. In 1940, German bombs devastated much of the City, but in the rubble they found long stretches of Roman wall as well as a Roman fort built circa A.D. 200. Below the road, called London Wall, I walk across the bridge over a little lake to the lovely, 700-year-old St. Giles’ Cripplegate, one of the few City churches to survive the Great Fire of 1666. The name comes from “cruplegate,” the Anglo-Saxon term for tunnel. The church — burial place of the poet John Milton, who declared London “a city of refuge, the mansion house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection” — was damaged by the same bomb that uncovered the Roman remains but has been restored to sit somewhat incongruously in the midst of modern concrete on three sides and a tiny garden on the fourth.

Actually, the garden, full of flowering trees and next to the splendidly eclectic Museum of London , is one of the best places to see the Roman wall. The lower sections are original; the higher elevations medieval. The Saxons rebuilt much of the wall beginning in the late 9th century as a defense against the Vikings, then Plantagenet princes added towers and fancier ramparts as a defense against other Plantagenet princes. You can also see the remains of a Roman fort — a gate, a guardhouse and part of a tower — but only on a Museum of London guided tour (check the “Events” link on its website). The place where centurions paraded their cohorts and soldiers kept a lookout watching for rebellion-minded Celts and other threats is now in a locked area of an underground parking garage.

The Museum of London is a curiously underappreciated City jewel, rarely stuffed to the gills with schoolchildren and tourists, not as overwhelmingly vast as the British Museum, yet a treasure house of the ancient and the extraordinary, such as the 300,000-year-old skull of an auroch and the tooth of a woolly rhinoceros found less than a half-mile away, as well as Viking war axes and Lord Nelson’s jeweled sword. The Roman collection has more than 47,000 objects (including some leather “bikinis”), but the most impressive are the mosaic floors uncovered in the East End and the 4th-century lady found in nearby Spitalfields. The noblewoman was buried in a decorated lead coffin with a scallop-shell pattern. Arabian embalming oils used on her demonstrate that Londinium was no hick town on the edge of the Empire but rather a cosmopolitan marketplace. The isotopes in her tooth enamel reveal that she was actually born in Rome, and the jet beads, rich damask and gold thread of her shroud suggest she was an aristocrat.

A full flask of wine in her sarcophagus could indicate that she worshipped Bacchus, too. The wine god’s local cult had installed itself in the 2nd-century Temple of Mithras, less than a mile away, when the soldiers’ god fell out of fashion. The Mithraeum was discovered at Walbrook (yet another hidden London stream that used to run under the Roman wall) in 1954 when an insurance company started digging the foundations for its new offices. The temple was moved and placed in storage; few people have had a chance to see it. But there’s hope that will change next year, when the temple is reinstalled on the lower level of Bloomberg’s new London headquarters, pretty much in the exact same place it was found. The museum has a wonderful sculpture dug up from the Mithraeum — a post-party Bacchus and Pan, drunk off their immortal butts, propped up between a satyr and a maenad.

After a cappuccino in the museum cafe, watching the encyclopedic 24-hour clock proclaiming random, yet compelling, London factoids (the first London coffeehouse opened in 1652; the value of the Crown Estates in London is 6 trillion pounds; London has 460,000 trees), I head out into a spritzy spring rain to visit some queens and homicidal women. Christ Church Greyfriars was part of a Franciscan monastery, bankrolled in 1306 by Margaret, a wife of Edward I and built at Newgate, along the Roman wall. It was the second-largest church in medieval London, after St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the burial place of Queen Margaret, her daughter Queen Joan of Scotland and Queen Isabella, the beautiful and ruthless wife of Edward II. Along with her lover Roger Mortimer, Isabella, the “She-Wolf of France,” deposed her husband in 1326 and may have conspired in his death.

“Le Morte d’Arthur” author Sir Thomas Malory was buried here, too, as well as Elizabeth Barton, a nun later known as the “Mad Maid of Kent,” who went around prophesying that Henry VIII would burn in hell if he married Anne Boleyn. The monuments that marked where these notables lay are gone now, damaged first during Henry VIII’s seizure of church lands in 1538, then burned in the 1666 Great Fire. The church was rebuilt in 1704 by Sir Christopher Wren — who also designed the “new” St. Paul’s — only to be burned again on the night of Dec. 29, 1940, when the Luftwaffe devastated the City in the “Second Great Fire of London.” St. Paul’s was saved; a score of beautiful old churches were not. Yet Christ Church Greyfriars’s outer walls, with Wren’s elegant arched windows, remain, as does the church tower, now a private residence (if you’re looking for a London pied-à-terre, it was recently on the market for $5.7 million).

The nave has been turned into an elegant, slightly melancholy garden laid out on Wren’s floor plan with bay trees, pink roses and blue irises. I stand there sheltering under my cheap umbrella, deleting the ugly commercial edifices of Merrill Lynch, British Telecom and Goldman Sachs in my head, wondering whether the ghosts will come out with the twilight. Queen Isabella is said to walk here in silks and furs, holding the still-beating heart of the murdered king. She has some competition: Lady Hungerford, executed for her first husband’s 1518 murder, makes the occasional appearance as well, sometimes to argue with the queen over which one is better looking. Agnes Hungerford was hanged in 1523 on the banks of the Tyburn, that now-disappeared river, along with other criminals who weren’t fancy enough to merit Tower Hill. The soft drizzle and the dying light helps roll away the 21st century, back 700 years ago when Christ Church looked over at the huge medieval spire of St. Paul’s piercing the heavens at the top of a nearby hill, then nearly two millennia ago when the Romans were making their great city on the banks of the Thames.

London is itself like a cathedral built on a Roman temple that was built on a neolithic henge, layer upon layer of history, each generation making its mark on top of the other. There’s always something else to dig up. Yet London, always generous, reveals its secrets to those who bother to look a little. Related Where to stay: Z Hotel: 136-144 City Rd., London EC1V 2RL; 011-44-20-3551-3702, thezhotels.com/z-shoreditch Ultramodern and fairly economical: You can crash in a double bed without a window from $154. Where to eat: Cafe Below: St. Mary-le-Bow Church, Cheapside, London EC2V 6AU; 011-44-20-7329-0789, cafebelow.co.uk Restaurant in the 11th-century crypt of this famous Wren church serving international riffs on British seafood, lamb and beef. Also offers breakfast and lunch. Entrees average about $20.

What to do: Temple Church: Temple, London EC4Y 7BB; 011-44-20-7353-8559, templechurch.com Elegant, spare 12th century church built as the headquarters for the Knights Templar, it’s full of dignified medieval effigies and grotesque stone heads sticking their tongues out at you. Open 10 a.m.-4 p.m., usually (check the website). Admission $7.50, but free on Wednesdays for Choral Evensong. Museum of London: 150 London Wall, London EC2Y 5HN; museumoflondon.org.uk The museum tells the story of London through its people, places and critters. Permanent galleries include “London Before London,” with bones of prehistoric animals and “Roman London,” a cornucopia of treasures from old Londinium. Open 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Free admission.

Roman Amphitheatre: Guildhall Art Gallery, Guildhall Yard, London EC2V 5AE; cityoflondon.gov.uk Spooky evocation and excavation of the arena where gladiators fought underneath a very fine gallery with exhibitions of London artists. Admission charged for exhibitions; admission to the amphitheatre is free.

Question: Discovered in 1988, the remains of what ancient structure lie beneath the Guildhall in London?
Answer: AMPHITHEATRE